First a caveat; I am not gay, although after reading my story, you will probably disagree. Prior to the experience I am shamefully recollecting here, I have never been with a man, I have never wanted to be with a man, and I assumed I would never be with a man. My marriage is above average and I have two great kids, a good job, and am working to build a nice retirement. Nonetheless I had an experience a few months back that has me reevaluating my entire life. I thought it might be therapeutic to write it out, so here I go. And yes, this really happened. I'm extremely ashamed of what I did, but to be brutally honest, I can't wait to do it again.
I'm a reasonably fit forty-three year old. Six foot tall, 180 pounds, with salt and pepper hair, I look every bit the suit and tie guy I am Monday through Friday. I enjoy outdoor sports including skiing, mountain biking, running, fishing, and camping. I live in a large California city and have a well paying, secure job. Saturday was the opening day of trout season. Being between engagements at work, I decided to take a couple of days and see how the high mountain streams looked. We had a brutal winter and I knew snow runoff would be high, but I also knew a couple of spring fed creeks out in the backcountry that might be fishable.
With the kids in school, I had a couple of days to myself. I'd drive up on Sunday after working on honey-do's all day Saturday, make a base camp and explore the backcountry waters with my fly rod, seeing what the coming trout season would have in store.
On Monday morning, I parked the SUV at a trailhead and hiked several miles back into the National Forest. A couple of other cars were at the trailhead, but with thousands of acres of wilderness, I didn't expect to see anybody all day. The cars looked like locals, beat up from the harsh winters, and one old pickup was peppered with bumper stickers announcing every form of support for the great outdoors; "Keep Tahoe Blue," "Support the NRA β I have a gun and know how to use it," "Trout Unlimited," etc.
After a couple of hours of mostly fruitless fishing, the water color being off and the flow rate still quite high, I decided to hike further upstream. Rounding a clump of sage brush at the edge of a secluded spring meadow, I nearly ran smack into a fisherman. As I nearly jumped out of my skin, I felt a warm trickle over my fishing waders. Looking down, I realized the guy was standing behind the thicket to take a leak, and standing not two feet in front of him, I was now getting that leak taken all over my feet.
"Wow, sorry man," I stammered, as I looked down to see the torrent of piss unleashed from his exposed penis. His urine stream was amazing, and reminded me of a that old expression "piss like a race horse." I stepped back a couple of feet, out of his impressive range. "You startled me."
Doing nothing to conceal his member, he continued to pee. "No problem buddy, when you gotta go, you just gotta go," he chuckled as he crushed the 24 ounce beer can he was holding and tossed it into the bushes. "These things go right through me."
Silently outraged at the fact he was using the wilderness as his own personal trashcan, I made a quick mental note of the guy and decided I would not be making any confrontational remarks. He easily stood 6'5" and must have weighted 275 pounds. He had a scraggy beard and was wearing a sweat stained camouflage hunting cap with the name "BUBBA" stamped in orange letters.
Oh, the other thing I noticed was the size of his exposed penis; I'd swear the package this guy was sporting rivaled that 24 ounce beer can he had just tossed away.
As his marathon pee came to an end, he grunted, "See something you like, buddy?"
"What, huh..." I stammered.
"You act like you never seen a guy take a piss before the way you staring at my dick," he replied.
"I, well, umm, I didn't realize I was staring," I blurted out, only too aware now that I had been busted, a deer in the headlights as I marveled at Bubba's impressive package.
"Maybe you one of them faggots, huh boy," he snorted, as he shook his enormous dick, the last few drops of pee sputtering from his enormous piss slit. "You looking at my dick like I look at a Thanksgiving turkey boy."
"I, I, I don't know what you're talking about," I stuttered, embarrassed and at the same time, enthralled by his big limp dick.
"Looky here, I ain't no queer, but I also ain't adverse to getting off, if you know what I mean. Why don't you get down on your knees and suck my dick, boy. I can see you want to."
I hated to admit it, but for some unspoken reason, I did want to. I could feel my cock starting to harden as I became sexually aroused. Sexually aroused by a guy's dick...what in the world was happening.
Amazingly, I did exactly as Bubba instructed and fell to my knees there on the edge of the meadow, gingerly grasping his big fleshy appendage in my quivering hand. As I did so, Bubba let out a soft moan and reached down to fish out his hairy nuts through the fly of his blue jeans. I don't know what came over me in that instant, but I couldn't take my eyes off this guy's fat, hairy sausage. I had often been amazed at the giant cocks on porn stars, but here I was staring down the barrel of a real live monster, and the only thing I could think of was how much I wanted to taste his salty seed.
"There you go gay boy," he snickered, "now you got the whole damn thing at your disposal."
I stroked his slowly hardening tool and tugged on his exposed balls, guessing that each was larger than a golf ball. I knew how much I enjoyed getting good head, why not give as good as I'd got? Nobody was going to find out and the thought of doing something so taboo really had me excited.
"Come on now son," he demanded, "I can give myself a damn handjob. Let me see how well you faggot boys suck dick."